Derek Hale and The Terrible, Horrible, No Good Very Bad Day
by HandsAcrossTheSea
Summary: Derek's had a long week - make that a VERY long week. He just wants to get through work on Friday and then have a weekend of sex and booze and giving zero fucks about anything. Except he has a shitty, shitty day and it stinks, big time. Cue Stiles stepping in with an idea that's sure to turn his sourwolf of a boss happy.


Derek tastes Friday morning across his skin like drops of ambrosia on his tongue. It's an awfully poetic thought for this early sure but it's still apt. He reaches over, cuts off the alarm blaring to his right and hauls himself out of bed, grunting with the effort as it's been a fucking long as hell week and he's feeling it in every inch of his body.

Seriously, thank God it's Friday.

It's predawn outside but that's fine – he's actually up when he's supposed to be, having slept straight through his alarm for the last four mornings and missing his chance for the grueling morning workouts he normally plunges into with fervor. Out in the sitting area of his apartment are his weights, gleaming black metal that invite him to caress and lift, to make up for not taking care of his body and, to an extent, his mind.

The burn in his muscles is glorious, each rep quieting his mind and making him focus on the simple task of his routine, carefully constructed to keep his pecs and abs in peak shape. He's awfully damned proud of them and isn't about to let himself fall down on their upkeep if he can help it. He does two extra sets this morning to try and make up for the work he's missed this week. It's incredible, feeling the strain and pull in his torso, made more intense by a ton of crunches and then he's doing pull ups in the doorway to his kitchen, knees bent and bare feet crossed under him until he's shaking from exertion and starting to breathe hard.

He still has time for a run and he changes out of his boxer briefs to slide his jockstrap and running shorts on, forgoing a shirt because even in the predawn hours it's hot in Arizona, especially in late August as it seems like the sun never truly sets. He steps out, no earbuds in today because he wants to hear himself work – he can't run his full six miles due to time but he manages four, the dry air making his chest ache by the time he's finished forty five minutes later and shutting the door to his apartment behind him. He strips on the way to his room, dropping his sweaty garments in the overflowing hamper just outside the bathroom door.

Derek doesn't bother to shut it, lets the steam flow out as he washes himself, the hot water making his taxed muscles sing sweetly. He doesn't want to say best shower ever but given that it's the first day he's had this week to actually take his time with it well… it's not far off the mark. Last night had been the first when he'd actually gotten to leave at quitting time and left things in _mostly_ relative order for the next day – he'd been awfully glad. Derek hates to leave things hanging as it were but he'd managed to get to all the repairs done that needed to be. Well almost all of them. Never mind the emergency right before quitting time. That he had to take care of. Really, he doesn't feel guilty about that in the slightest.

His mind is wandering when he realizes he's awfully, awfully horny. No hook ups or jacking off since last Friday has him randy and he foregoes washing his hair in favor of curling a hand around his stiffening cock. It doesn't take any time at all before he's at full mast, leaning against the tiled wall of his shower, head tilted back as he strokes. As much as he wants to reach that hot rush quick he knows it'll be all the more satisfying if he draws it out – so he does. Long, tight strokes that cause his callused palms to drag over the surface of his long, thick cock in the most satisfying way, feeling his foreskin bunch at the tip between thumb and forefinger then pulling it all the way back, the hot water streaming over the made by time hyper-sensitive head. He moans, precome slicking his fingers despite the water cascading over him.

He thinks about his fuck buddy Isaac, all pretty eyes and curly blonde hair and that long, lean body that Derek loves to mark up. Totally not his boyfriend, not at all, just a good lay who he goes out drinking with before or after. That's all. Thinks about his tight ass and big dick flopping around as he rides Derek into oblivion. The come sloppy kisses traded afterwards and the way Isaac runs his fingers through his hair afterwards. Good touch, good good touch. It's mesmerizing and the ghost of his fingers over his skin end up making Derek come hard, hot white spurts arcing out and spattering against the glass door of his shower, the other hand tugging at his left nipple, making his orgasm all the more intense and satisfying. He's feeling blissful and ready to take on the world now, muscles burning pleasantly and lust slaked.

Derek plans to call Isaac after work and see if he's up for beers and a flip fuck (Derek tried the strict top thing and failed miserably at it – some things are too good to pass up in life and a dick in the ass is high up on the list) because it'll be the perfect cap to this entirely too long week. He doesn't bother shaving, keeping his two day scruff because he's been told the whole unshaven look works well on him and hey, it's Friday.

He's in the process of getting dressed when he realizes the only underwear he has left are the one pair of boxer briefs that squeeze things just tight enough to where it's uncomfortable.

Great.

Twelve hours of having the circulation cut off to his junk but he's not about to recycle the pair from the day before and freeballing at work is something he simply doesn't do. It'd be awfully embarrassing to have to do a scrub down due to jet fuel getting on him and then not have skivvies to put back on afterwards. With a sigh he pulls them on, tucking his junk down as best he can down into them and adjusting the waistband so that they aren't riding up his ass. It's okay though, just one small hurdle to get through. So long as everything else goes smoothly.

Having pulled on a fresh pair of cover alls he makes himself breakfast, two eggs and orange juice and two bananas, washed down with orange juice and he's got his rocket fuel (so what if he makes coffee really, really strong) in hand and all he has to do is survive twelve hours and then the weekend is his and there'll be sex and sleeping in and it's going to be perfect. Just twelve hours of working on airplanes and then he's free.

If Derek had known the shit day he was going to have he'd have called out sick beforehand.

. . .

It's only a twenty minute drive to Davis-Monthan Air Force base from his apartment.

Or so it should be.

There's a water main burst on his normal route there, the traffic headed away from downtown and towards the base backed up and really, this can't be happening, not today. He'd be on time were it not for this, the dashboard clock in his Camaro reading 5:45 am and he's supposed to clock in at five til – he'd be fine if there weren't construction crews and fire trucks and every goddamn car on this side of Tuscon trying to crowd onto one road and yep, this is just the flake that'll start the day snowballing downhill.

Come on Hale, he tells himself. So you'll be late. You're never late. Superintendent Argent will understand, right?

As it turns out (when he finally arrives half an hour late) no, Gerard (that's Superintendent, Technical Sergeant) isn't in a forgiving mood. At all.

"You've got six A-10s sitting in your shop with pulled avionics – and they're a goddamn mess! Those should have been done yesterday, Hale!" Gerard's spittle flies in his face and it's all Derek can do to subtly dodge it along with not punching the man's light's out.

_What an ass,_ Derek thinks to himself. "Sir, I couldn't finish them yesterday because I was trying to re-route three busted fuel mains on that Hercules – the one that touched down an hour before I was supposed to leave?" Derek gestures to the C-130 moving out of the hangar doors, the techs having finished the work started on it yesterday. The work Derek started but had to leave because he was so goddamn tired and could barely see straight to finish no more than making sure it wouldn't blow up of its own accord.

Gerard's expression doesn't soften with the least bit of sympathy. "You should start one thing before finishing another. You know that. Do you have any idea how sloppy that looks, _Technical Sergeant_?"

"A lot goddamn better than a hangar up in flames, _Superintendent_." The barely concealed venom Derek injects into his voice makes Gerard back down – but only just. "Unless you wanted the place to burn down due to a leak."

Gerard looks like he could kill Derek with a look, given the way his eyes are trying to bore holes where Derek's face ."Get to work Hale." The fact that he says nothing more signifies that Derek's won – for the moment. He steps out of Gerard office, rage barely contained and Christ he wants to hit something but that's not a smart move and he knows it.

Instead he barks at Petty Officer Stilinski to stop fucking around with the air compressor and help him start putting the Warthogs (the A-10s' nickname) cockpits back together – Stiles moves the fastest Derek's ever seen him and the kid's normally bouncing off of one side of the hangar to the other – he's got no business here but his dad's the CO of the base so he does his best to teach him what he can and try to not kill him. He's smart yeah but Derek can only pass on so much information to someone who barely holds still for more than a minute at a time. That and he's not great at fixing aircraft, especially ones intended to defend the United States of America.

"What was all that about, boss?" Stiles asks as they climb up the ladder to the first Warthog's cockpit.

Derek just sets himself in the pilot's seat and starts to work, not looking at Stiles as he answers. "Don't worry about it. Happened after you left yesterday."

"That Herc that came in, wasn't it?" Stiles starts handing Derek tools – he can do at least that. "The guys this morning said something about fuel main being busted. Would have been a show had the place torched last night, wouldn't it?"

Trying to make the incredulous look on his face into a sour stare requires an effort on Derek's part. "No, it wouldn't have." Derek shouldn't have deigned it with a response but Stiles is starting to get on his nerves with the way he's vibrating with undue energy for before 7 am.

"Lighten up dude – so you were late. And Argent's a dickweed anyway."

"I'm never late, Stilinksi." Derek's tone is angrier than it should be but he can't help it.

"Was it your fault?"

"No."

"Alright then."

"Just hand me a damn screwdriver."

Stiles doesn't let Sourwolf get to him.

He also doesn't call him that.

. . .

Derek's pulled apart and put back together these A-10s so many times that he could do it in his sleep – the electronics occasionally go haywire due to the fact that the Warthog is old and David-Monthan has some of the oldest in service – Derek can only make thirty year plus year old aircraft do so much, updates and such aside.

He's about to check the logs on the Hercules that touched down when the whole hangar roof starts to shake – someone's coming in low and hot. Nothing unusual really, until the alarm for "imminent danger" starts to blare and Derek jumps into action mode, his underwear nearly cutting him off in the middle as he starts to run around, making his crew hustle to get the place locked down and Christ it's uncomfortable, trying to move quickly when his junk is in a death grip. Why he's worried about that he's not sure, not with something wrong outside the hangar walls.

As it turns out, it's just something to send Derek's already strained patience skyrocketing.

Derek puts on his aviators and starts to head towards the tarmac, moving at a jog towards the plane that's just touched down – an F-16 that he's honest to God sure has zero business being here. On top of that, the engine's smoking and the pilot's already out of the cockpit, on the ground gesticulating to the firemen on the ground. Davis-Monthan doesn't operate F-16s so this has to be a one off – why would he be all the way out here anyway?

As Derek approaches he realizes he recognizes the pilot.

Shit.

It's Jackson Whittemore, one of Derek's former classmates from the USAFA – he'd been a real piece of work then, snobby and pretentious and arrogant. It had been a wonder Derek hadn't flattened him then – ten years after graduation he's wondering if it's still an option. Originally he'd been a Warthog jockey before transferring and that had been a day Derek hadn't been in the least bit sorry to see someone walk out of his life.

Of course now he's _Major_ Jackson Whittemore, Derek finds upon getting closer to him. Just perfect, something else to raise his own self-importance and why, why did it have to be his plane that caught on fire over Arizona?

"Is that Derek Hale?" Jackson lowers his sunglasses, peering at Derek against the desert sun.

"Yes Jackson – excuse me, Major, it is." Derek tries to keep his voice pleasant but he's so not in the mood for the condescending tone he can already here in Jackson's speech.

"My my my, didn't figure I'd land on your base. What's the deal Hale, couldn't cut in the cockpit so you're a grease monkey now?"

"It's Technical Sergeant Hale, _Major_ and I don't appreciate you coming in flaming on my runway." Jackson doesn't offer to shake hands and Derek won't, so they're standing chest to chest on the runway with a thankfully no longer on fire F-16 behind them, the other techs too busy in trying to keep it from bursting into flames again to notice Derek and Jackson comparing whose is bigger.

"My apologies, Sergeant." There isn't an ounce of respect to be had and Derek wants to bite his head off. They're men in their early thirties and they may as well be having a fight in the sandbox in elementary school, chests puffed up and staring each other down.

"What do you need, Jackson - I've got other issues to deal with other than your ego." Derek growls the words, Jackson not backing away so much as an inch.

"Oil leak, I think. I was on my way to Luke when I noticed my pressure dropping." Jackson does at least bother to give that to him straight anyway. The only thing straight about him, Derek muses to himself. He's not fooling anyone if he's still with that Lydia girl – Martin was her last name, right? The guy took more dicks than a glory hole at a truckstop.

Derek shakes himself out his reverie before Jackson picks up on the fact he's thinking about his ass getting reamed. "Why you were all the way out here is beyond me but the sooner I can get your sorry ass out of here the better, _Major_."

Jackson's already turned on his heel and is walking to the truck Gerard had sent to pick him up.

Assholes, the lot of them.

. . .

It's not hard to access the place where Jackson's F-16 is causing issues – as it turns out, some neglectful tech had simply not bothered to tighten the cap on the oil tank enough and it had sloshed out, causing the engine to smoke and spark. Truthfully Jackson's lucky that the whole plane didn't go up – Derek refills the oil, triple checks the seals, glares at Jackson a couple more times in order to communicate that he better not come back in this direction and sends him on his way – only for him to find more work piling up. He's starting to feel more than a little exasperated – not something that happens very often, being the model of patience and level-headedness. Stiles sees him looking like he could rip apart the Warthog he's about to set back to work on and redoubles his efforts, getting the guys he's working with to look super busy.

Derek notices and nods his thanks, going over to his workbench where his now cold lunch is waiting – Boyd had gotten him a sub and he starts to munch as he begins work on updating his maintenance logs, spying Gerard across the hangar and he starts to press just a little too hard into the paper with his pen, leaving ink blots that he pretends are Gerard's blood oozing from the holes Derek's left in his body.

Slow down Hale – no need to fantasize about death halfway to quitting time.

Derek pulls out his phone, deciding now rather than later would be a good time to get in touch with Isaac – the kid's a relief nurse at the hospital downtown and his schedule changes a lot.

"Down for beer and a fuck later?" Derek sends the message, setting his phone aside and trying his hardest to not check it every couple seconds. Maybe it can be the one bright point in his day because right now he needs it bad, the tight pull of his underwear having started to build up his frustration on a sexual level and he wants to get out of it so fucking bad he's half hard with desire, thinking about Isaac and sex and a warm body to stay the night with.

Dammit, he thinks. He likes the guy too much for just a fuck buddy.

His lunch break comes and goes, still no reply from Isaac and he plunges himself into his work, letting his hands take over all of that pent up discomfort and anger and by the time he's finished he's finished straddling the turbofan on one of his A-10s it's running better now than it has in ten years, the steady roar making a grand noise outside the hangar doors and with a smug smile he looks at Gerard – the grudging look of acceptance is the best he'll get from the old man.

_Good. _

Half an hour before quitting time he finally hears from Isaac, Derek so wrapped up in re-calibrating a 30 mm cannon he barely notices.

_Sorry man – I'm on shift all weekend _

Derek sighs, trying his best to not feel like he's about to accept defeat. "Not even a quick fuck in the supply closet?"

_No can do – Melissa's supervising._

Derek considers spooling up the General Electric turbofans on the A-10's fuselage and seeing if they're capable of pulling him in.

"No problem."

_I'll try to get over to your place later this weekend, I promise._

Honest to God, Derek doesn't know if he's going to last that long.

. . .

Stiles feels bad for Derek, really he does. He's normally so hardworking, committed to getting his guys and planes to working their best. That's pretty damned admirable, right?

He also recognizes sexual frustration when he sees it and boy, Derek looks like he's wound up tighter than the coils on the GAU-8s stuffed into the noses of the Warthogs he's still trying to understand. That and Derek's sexy – the whole dark, brooding, scruffy mysteriousness works for him – he doesn't live on base so it's not like he ever sees him outside work. Does he have a house? Apartment? Maybe a tent in the desert?

Stiles wouldn't be surprised if did, given the way he moves like he's got some secret to carry. Which he probably totally does. Stiles likes that about him, the whole "too gruff and dark to speak to anyone unless I have to." It also helps that Derek's ripped as hell, or at least so far as Stiles can see. He's watched him lift all sorts of heavy pieces of equipment like it's nothing on more than one occasion that's hot. It's also not like he hasn't fantasized about those arms maybe picking him up to fuck the life out of him. Yeah, that's a big one. Like number one scenario in his spank bank.

Derek would do that to him, right? Fuck him so hard he saw into the future where he and Derek were living in perpetual sexual bliss?

Oh – and with Scott. Stiles best friend. And boyfriend. Special friend who he's loved with his whole heart since preschool and finally kissed on graduation night. Scott would definitely have to be there because Stiles couldn't be content with just one, no sir. Both would be better.

A lot better.

Which gives him an idea.

It's quitting time anyway so right as he's swiping his badge to clock out he pulls out his cell and dials Scott's number from memory – the same one he's had since middle school.

Scott picks up on the third ring. "What's up?" is the easy reply. Stiles can't help but grin as the sunshine shoots right from Scott's mouth and into the receiver. It's heartwarming.

"What would you say to a plus one tonight?" Stiles sees no reason to gloss over the fact he wants to have a threesome.

With his boss.

And boyfriend.

"Like for drinks or more than just drinks." Scott doesn't sound angry that Stiles asked, simply curious.

"Both?" Stiles bounces on the balls of his feet, watching Derek finish up his work from across the hangar. Such a gorgeous back on the man, he thinks. He'd love see it straining and sweating against he and Scott's dicks and slow down Stilinksi – he may not be into DP.

"Who?"

"What?" Sorry Scott, he thinks – he has broad backs and shoulders covered in spunk on his mind.

"I said who. Who do you want to bring with us into booze-laden kinky sex with us?"

"I didn't say anything about booze-laden or kinky. You did." The kinky part doesn't sound bad anyway…

"Just tell me who Stiles."

"Derek."

There's a pause on the other end of the line.

"Scott?"

"Sorry – you mean Derek Hale. Derek Hale as in your insanely hot boss Derek Hale."

"You're so smart Scott, no wonder you have two doctorates." (One in animal medicine and one in surgery.)

"Yeah, yeah." He can picture Scott's goofy grin, lovely crooked jaw and everything. "But seriously – Derek? Isn't that against the rules?" The fact that that's what concerns Scott more than anything is terribly endearing.

Stiles loves him, he really does.

"Probably. But Scott – the guy needs us. He's a walking wreck of sexual frustration and stuff. You can smell it on him."

"Should I get more condoms?" Scott and he burn through them awfully fast and Stiles doesn't remember seeing anymore in the box they keep on the bedside table at his place.

"Yeah, for sure. Um… big ones too. Something tells me the Sarge is hung as hell." He has to be, Stiles thinks. All that gorgeous has to be attached to a big dick.

Scott ponders for a moment. "What if he's the one that wants to get fucked though?"

Stiles looks over at Derek. Well his ass anyway. "Probably better get some just in case. Who knows, maybe he's into DP."

"That's you Stiles."

Stiles grins. "Yeah, I know. But who knows, maybe he's a power bottom." Now there's an entertaining thought…

"Well instead of talking about it why don't we start putting your brilliant plan into practice. Meet you at Flynn's at eight?"

"You got it babe. Hopefully the Sarge'll show up as well."

"Right on. Love you Stiles." Scott blows a kiss into the receiver.

"You too Scott. See you soon."

He pockets his phone and strolls over to Derek, waiting for him to turn back around from whatever he's fiddling with.

"About quitting time, isn't it Sarge?" Stiles probably overdoes it on the whole casual thing but hey, what does he have to lose?"

Derek faces him, eyes narrowed at Stiles' easy posture and seemingly non-stressed attitude. "Yeah, it is. What of it?"

Stiles does a quick look around as he talks. "Well a friend and I were gonna go out for drinks at Flynn's and dude, you look like you need a little r and r. So if you wanted to come and join us this is your invitation." Stiles holds his hand open, like Derek's just going to jump right on board with Stiles' self-admittedly brilliant plan.

"Thanks but no thanks. I've got plans of my own." He really doesn't but he's not going to tell Stiles that.

Stilinksi.

Not Stiles.

Stiles doesn't feel in the least bit let down – not like he can just come right out and say "hey boss, want to have a hot and sweaty threesome with my boyfriend."

"Suit yourself. But if you want to some out and have some fun you know where we'll be."

Stiles walks away and Derek maybe – just maybe – stares at his cute little ass on the way out the door.

Dammit.

. . .

The first thing Derek does when he gets home is shower and rub the grit and grease from his body – he hadn't realized just how dirty he'd gotten. He's also still thinking about Stiles butt. And lips. And everything else because aggravating as hell he may be but he can't deny the fact that he's the kind of guy Derek would love to mess up via a solid fucking. He's positive that ass is tight too, like virgin tight.

He gets hard in spite of himself and Christ he doesn't need a fucking coworker to bed. Not the CO's son.

That's why twenty minutes later he's done an enema on himself (just in case) and is pulling on the tightest t-shirt he owns and his "I want sex" jeans. Which admittedly is most of them but these are like magnets for him. He's also forgoing underwear, seeing as he doesn't have any to wear and going commando will probably get him in Stiles – Stilinski's – pants faster than anything.

God he wishes Isaac was free because this is going to be nothing but trouble.

Which is precisely why he's going through with it.

. . .

Scott answers the door shirtless, scrub pants slung low on his hips and the moment he's got it open he has an armful of Stiles, kissing him deep and hard and good. Scott immediately opens up to him, tongues sliding together and Christ that's amazing, feeling Stiles dark blue coveralls against his naked skin and his strong fingers holding onto Scott's biceps.

He does have to breathe at some point though and he gently pushes Stiles back for air. "Good evening to you to." Scott's got his sunshine grin going on again and it makes Stiles kiss him one more time before he speaks.

"You're the best. Like literally the best ever."

"It's just a threesome with your boss, bro." Scott leads him by the hand over to the couch, settling Stiles in his lap.

"Well…"

"He did say yes, didn't he?"

"Not exactly."

Scott tilts his head slightly to one side. "You did ask if he wanted to join us, right?"

"I just said we'd be at Flynn's if he wants to stop by."

"So much for being direct dude." Scott starts to unzip Stiles' coveralls, littering his chest with kisses along the way. "Not that just the two of us is a bad thing of course." He bites at Stiles' left nipple through his undershirt, making Stiles moan loudly. Scott's terrifyingly good at getting him from zero to hundred really fucking quick and yeah he was half-hard before he even got in the door but now he's feeling very, very trapped in his clothes.

"Not… not at all." Stiles scritches his fingers through Scott's buzz cut, grinding down into Scott's laps as he manages to toe off his boots. They aren't going anywhere until Scott helps him do something about this boner he finds himself contending with.

Scott of course, the bastard, is way ahead of him, reaching up to help Stiles out of the sleeves of his coveralls, Stiles once he's free pulling off his undershirt. Scott licks his lips at the sight of his boyfriend's gorgeous skin, kissing his belly and chest before he sticks his tongue in his navel, swirling it around a couple times and honest to God that's kind of gross but it feels fantastic.

"You could be naked too, y'know" Stiles manages as Scott starts to graze his teeth along his treasure trail.

"Then get off of me." Scott bites a hipbone, making Stiles yelp.

Stiles doesn't need to be told twice and Scott's very helpful about getting his coveralls the rest of the way off, taking down his underwear with them and as Stiles steps out of them Scott pulls his remaining clothing off as well, hard uncut dick thwacking against his belly as he shimmies out of them. It's a lewd, erotic sound and then they're both naked as can be, Stiles crowding back down onto Scott and kissing him hard, Scott reaching up to grab a hold of Stiles' cock and give it a solid tug – his knees nearly buckle from the touch, his nerves hypersensitive and worked up and then Scott's murmuring "what do you want babe" against his lips and Stiles doesn't even have to think about it, just lifts himself so he's got one knee bent up on the couch and one foot on the floor, one hand braced against the wall in front of him and the other cradling the back of Scott's head.

Scott pulls Stiles' foreskin back before he swirls his tongue around the head, licking up the salty drip of precome beaded at the tip. That feels fucking amazing, like heaven and rainbows and all sorts of other good shit as Scott goes down further on Stiles' dick, keeping going until he's got his nose buried in Stiles' pubes. It's not like Stiles is super hung but he's still above average and the fact that Scott can just deep throat him like this, no prep or anything before hand – it's really fucking sexy.

Especially when Scott reached up and tugs at his ass, pulling forward and then back, the signal that if Stiles wants to take over he can – and he does. He starts off slow, languid thrusts of his hips in and out of Scott's mouth, feeling his boyfriend's jaw go slack, nothing but warm and wet lips and tongue to make his toes curl. Scott's amazing at taking his dick like this, no gag reflex to choke him up and he can both breathe and get face fucked at the same time – Stiles feels so lucky some days.

Okay, most days.

Scott growls, the sign that he can take more and the vibration from his voice travels faster than the speed of light up Stiles' spine, kicking his synapses into working again and he speeds up, balls swinging heavy as they smack against Scott's chin and he can hear them, wet and sticky with spit and precome. He's got his eyes shut as he fucks Scott's face but he looks down, seeing Scott and those sinfully gorgeous brown eyes looking up at him, corners of his mouth curled up adoringly at him – it's a mistake because he all of a sudden comes messily, his spunk spilling out of Scott's mouth and dripping down onto that positively gorgeous chest of his. It's a sight to behold, one that should be photographed and framed forever.

Stiles is about to pull out of Scott's mouth when Scott hauls him downwards, rutting his cock up against the cleft of Stiles' ass and then his back is being doused in come, spurting wet and heavy against him and the floor and the couch – they've made a righteous mess but Stiles nor Scott particularly gives a damn, seeing as how Stiles' tongue is in Scott's mouth, frantically trading come-sloppy kisses with him. It's tasty and gross and perfect all in one, Scott keeping Stiles in close as long as he can before he pushes him back, breathing heavy as he strokes Stiles now jizz covered cheek.

"Ready to go and seduce your boss now?"

Stiles grins wide as he hauls Scott up off the couch in the direction of his bathroom.

"Fuck. Yes."

. . .

They finally arrive at Flynn's at twenty past eight, having taken time to prep and clean each other up, Stiles in some borrowed clothes from Scott, both clad in a t-shirt and jeans. Not too bummish, not too fancy – just right. Stiles spots Derek's Camaro near the front, parking his Jeep right next to it.

"There's his car." Stiles knew he would show up. Dick beats brains in cases like this and he's had years of field study.

Scott whistles low. "His fucking car is sex on wheels. Matches, doesn't it?"

"To a t. Now let's go see if the good sergeant has made a lot of headway without us." They're holding hands as they step into the noisy bar, payday and a long week combined into one making the place packed full. Thankfully Derek's easy to spot, sitting at the bar and nursing a beer and decidedly not looking around.

Like people should just come up to him instead.

"Oh my God" is the only reaction Scott has to seeing what of Derek he can – it's not like he hasn't seen him before of course, just never off base. And in sinfully tight clothes.

"Preaching to the choir bro." Stiles gives Scott's hand a quick, tight squeeze before he lets go, gesturing for Scott to follow.

Derek must be giving of some sort of serious "don't fuck with me" vibe off tonight, as there are two open barstools to either side of him. He's okay with that too. He just wants to drink. And fuck Stiles. Hence why he hasn't been trying to hit on anyone else – not that he hasn't gotten more than a few interested looks but he's shot them all down with a scowl before they could even get closer to him.

Such a handy skill to have.

"It's the only good grease jockey bar in town, y'know. Figured we would have seen you in here before." Derek turns to the source of the words, nearly knocking knees with Stilinski, perched to his right and grinning like he's won the damn lottery.

"I like to drink alone most of the time." Derek looks a touch embarrassed at the fact that he caved but he's here now so he may as well play it as cool as he can manage.

"Why, do you start doing karaoke when you're good and sloshed?" This time from his left and holy shit, another gorgeous one. Buzzcuts don't normally do it for him but this guy's as much sex on wheels as Stile – Stilinski is. If not more so.

"Sergeant, this is my boyfriend, the one and only Scott McCall." Stiles presents him with a smile and a wink, Scott shaking Derek's non-beer occupied hand.

Is it bad to want two things at once?  
"It's a pleasure, Scott." He takes another sip of his Sierra Nevada before he sets it down. "What are you doing hanging around with this bum?" He gestures with a toss of his head to his right - Scott just shrugs at the insult and orders a beer.

Scott's mouth goes to a wickedly lewd grin. "He's adorable as fuck and knows how to ride a cock. And give it, for that matter." Scott non-chalantly picks up the beer that's been slid in his direction and watches Derek process that information.

It's entertaining as hell.

Derek quickly gets a hold of himself but his dick's definitely taking interest – a good sign he's sure. Not like he wasn't interested before but now he's thinking and working and calculating and honestly he's not seeing a downside to this situation yet.

"Scott's too kind, honestly. He's a champion cocksucker himself. I actually have first-hand evidence from not an hour ago." The statement gets more than a few raised eyebrows in their direction and that's when Stiles decides maybe it's time to move this somewhere quieter.

"Gentlemen, let's find a booth." Stiles and Scott both grab a bicep (Scott starts to get hard again as soon as he touches him because Jesus Christ there's nothing but power under that thin cotton) and steer him towards the back of the bar, like Derek needs help to walk. Then again with these two touching him it's not like he's going to object.

He growls out of obligation anyway.

Stiles nearly melts and Scott has to suppress the gleeful smile on his face.

They slide into a corner booth, a round affair with red leather cushions and put Derek between them, Scott still to his left and Stiles to his right.

God he wants to grope those pretty… everything.

"Derek – can I call you Derek?" Stiles takes another swallow of beer before he props a forearm on Derek's shoulder. "I'm gonna cut right through the bullshit and give it to you straight. I saw how frazzled you were by the time we quit today and Scott and I are all about helping people. Especially Scotty."

Scott beams and moves in to put an arm around Derek's shoulders. "Well animals is more my deal but all the same it's in my nature. Mind you this is completely Stiles' idea but we'd really like it you'd maybe let us take your worries off your mind." He leans in and kisses Derek's neck because he just can't resist any longer.

The theory of someone tasting as good as they smell is true in the case of Derek Hale.

Stiles continues on, watching Derek's lips part as Scott's mouth moves against his skin. "Of course you're free to say no, Sarge. I understand if you don't want-"

"Shut up" is all Derek says before he kisses Stiles full on the mouth, Stiles giving Scott a half alarmed, half aroused look to Scott and all his boyfriend does is grin, moving to nip at Derek's ear. It makes Derek growl again and try to eat Stiles all the more, tongue plunging into his mouth and holy shit, the guy tastes fantastic and better than anything Stiles has imagined before.

Scott slides a hand under the table, up Derek's knee to his crotch and gives him a good squeeze – it normally works wonders on Stiles and yep, does the same for Derek. He feels his cock stiffen and goddamn he's big, can tell just by feeling and he catches Stiles' eyes again, reaching over to tug at his t-shirt and he mouths "he's huge" and Stiles' hand moves under the table as well, joining Scott's and his eyes go wide too.

Derek pulls his mouth off of Stiles and grins. "You boys feel something you like?" He turns to kiss Scott because if ones gets it mouth to mouth the other will too – Scott doesn't surrender quite as fast as Stiles did but holy fuck there's no reason for him to start leaking like a faucet just from a kiss.

"Amazing, isn't it?" Stiles says in Scott's direction, sliding a hand under Derek's t-shirt and up his body and yeah, he's as furry and ripped as he imagined and Stiles just has to look and see for himself, perving out on Derek's perfect body and no, the coveralls don't do him the least bit of justice. He decides to see if Derek has the same sensitive spot on the other side of his neck that Scott found – the answer is yes, tongue licking over that spot just under his haw before he sucks the skin, making Derek do this moan-growl thing that Stiles has never heard from someone else before – it's infuriatingly sexy and with Scott's help Stiles very much wants to see how many more of those sounds he can cause Derek to make.

The hand that Derek doesn't' have curled in the front of Scott's t-shirt to hold him still as he assaults his mouth slides up the inside of Stiles' thigh, groping and fumbling until he finds Stiles' cock, fingers rubbing over the length and Stiles groans into his neck – it's mercifully dark back here, most everyone else up at the front to watch the first regular season NFL game on the six jumbo screens, something Derek's thankful for and if this is what's going to happen when he sets foot in Flynn's then he may just have to start drinking away from home.

Panting as he breaks contact with Scott he asks "your place or mine?"

Stiles looks at Scott, looking for an answer. "Uh… I don't really have room for the three of us to…"

"Mine then. C'mon boys, let's move before we get arrested." Derek pushes Stiles out, groping his ass before he stands and he doesn't even bother to adjust himself much – they caused him a rock-hard boner and they're going to see it.

Scott runs to settle up the tab, flinging down probably too much cash and then he's out the door, eyes following him because he's trying to jog with an erection through a crowd of people but hey, he doesn't have any shame to show for it. Derek's climbing into his Camaro, Stiles already in the Jeep with the engine running. He's a bundle of shaking nerves as Scott clambers in, immediately backing out to follow Derek.

"We're definitely gonna need the big ones Stiles – he's huge."

Stiles pats his right pocket. "Got it covered, Scotty. Us too if he decides to go ass up for us."

Scott licks his lips at the Camaro. "That would be great." Really, really great.

"We'll just have to wait and see, won't we?"

The drive doesn't take too terribly long, Derek's apartment complex not ten minutes from Flynn's. It's one of the nicer places in town, reflecting a slight bit of affluence but not so much that it costs money to breathe the air in it. Derek pulls in just ahead of Scott and Stiles, already out of the car and making a beeline to the elevator, Scott and Stiles bounding after him like excited puppies chasing a new toy to play with.

It doesn't take long to get to Derek's floor but they have to behave themselves anyway, two other people in there with them but as soon as the doors open on the third level Derek practically lifts them bodily, grabbing hold of their arms and stomping down the hallway – ungraceful yes but the desperation is thick in the air by this point. It's a small miracle that he manages to get his door open quickly, what with Scott and Stiles' roaming hands and mouths making it unnecessarily difficult to get the key into its slot.

Derek's starting to feel more than anything else though so if they want to grope him a little more it's no problem at all.

Before the door's even shut he finds himself pushed up against it, Scott tugging his shirt off over his head and Stiles working at his belt buckle, careful of Derek's erection as he pulls his jeans down and both of them stand back to take a moment and perv on him.

"We're dead, Scotty" Stiles says as he reaches for his boyfriend's arm for support. "Because this… this isn't real. It can't be." They rake their eyes over Derek's naked form, taking in the muscles, the body hair, the positively ridiculously sexy legs and then his cock, big and hard and pointing up at an angle as if to defy gravity – Stiles doesn't miss the foreskin that just barely contains the head, glistening with precome like dewdrops.

"No, we're alive, I promise." Scott starts to step forward but Derek holds up a hand.

"Stop. We're not going any further until all of us are naked." To emphasize the point Derek kicks off his shoes as he removes his jeans where they're pooled around his feet. "It's only fair."

They don't need to be told twice and soon they're both stripped as well, Derek having to stifle a groan – they're both perfect, Stiles all leanness and dark hair on his lower belly, Scott muscled and tan and together they make a gorgeous pair. It's like porn, except a million times better because these boys are hot for him and he is for them and yep, this day started out shitty but it's suddenly gotten much, much better.

"Kiss." Derek reaches down and strokes himself as he watches Scott and Stiles attempt to devour each other – it's as much show as it is sincerity, kissing each other like they've known each other all their lives. (Which is true enough, actually.) It's a positively gorgeous sight to see, the two of them on equal footing as they trade wet, sloppy kisses and rut against each other, cocks pointed up towards their bellies where they're smushed together. Derek indulges himself and reaches up to pinch his left nipple, his favored way of jacking off and Scott and Stiles keep flashing him heated glances as they lick into each other's mouths, tongues bright pink and on display just for him.

He can't help but feel a little like he's king of the world.

Of course, this night's not about just Scott and Stiles, not at all. Once they've had their fill of groping each other they turn on Derek – literally and figuratively.

"You know Sergeant, Scott and I don't do anything half assed." Stiles curls a hand around Derek's left wrist, reaching up to cup his face.

"He's right – both or none of us, Derek. What do you say?" Scott nips at Derek's neck, dragging his nails down Derek's abs to the base of his cock, replacing Derek's hand with his.

Stiles kisses Derek's shoulder, reaching behind to squeeze Derek's very, very nice ass. "Your call man. We don't DP you today. Hell we're open to whatever you want really. Choice is yours."

Derek takes two seconds to consider his options and no, DP doesn't sound good right away but goddamn he wants both to fuck and get fucked – so why not that? He lifts his arms and gives both of them a quick, smoldering kiss, Stiles first and Scott next.

"You" to Stiles "I want you to fuck me." "You" – Scott "I want to fuck. Sound good?"

Given the sly grins he earns from his very quickly becoming good friends that sounds very, very amenable. "Just a note Derek – Scott's a power bottom and you're gonna have to accept that."

"I can."

"Great! Now where's the bedroom?"

Derek pulls them along again, Scott and Stiles exchanging excited grins behind his back. Stiles does bother to reach down and pick up his jeans though, reaching into the pocket and grabbing a handful of condoms. He has a feeling they're going to need all of them, given the way Derek's dragging them like a workhorse towards the back of the apartment.

Derek's bedroom is tastefully done, a desk with a computer in one corner, bathroom door off to the left and in the middle a goddamn California king bed (Derek likes to sprawl) that looks like it should hold up very nicely under their combined weight. Scott reaches down to give his cock a stroke as he watches Derek crawl up the bed and fling himself down, extending his arms in invitation like this was his idea.

Whatever Hale, Stiles thinks as he moves to tuck himself up against one side, Scott on the other. He wastes no time in going right for Derek's mouth, Scott taking an earlobe and they both get a hand around his dick – it's certainly big enough for it, jacking him slow and tight and Derek grabs for them, the moans he gets from them vibrating sweetly against his mouth and skin. He's never actually had a threesome before, prefers to focus his attentions on one partner at a time but this has certainly changed his tune for the better, especially since Stiles and Scott are so in sync with each other. It's as though they have this down to an art, moving with each other, working together instead of fighting over Derek.

It's sweet, in a way.

Stiles pulls away from his mouth, devious gleam in his eyes as he kisses his way down Derek's furry body, Scott watching as he continues to nip at his neck. He knows exactly where he's going, knowing that look on an intimate level.

"Forgot to mention" Scott purrs into Derek's ear, "Stiles is a champ at eating ass." As if by cue Stiles has Derek's legs thrown up in the air, pushing back on his knees until Derek's fuzzy ass is almost straight up in the air. Stiles licks his lips like he's sitting down to a fucking feast, ghosting a cool stream of air over the soft pink of Derek's hole.

Derek's about to say something but then Stiles' tongue is doing its best to get inside him and instead he sort of growl/howls – his ass is sensitive to this sort of stimulation, always has been – he's perfectly capable of coming only from this.

And then it's over.

"Scotty, why don't you start getting his dick wet for you?" Scott gives Derek a quick kiss before he's straddling his chest backwards, Stiles lowering Derek's lower body more to the mattress so that Scott has room to work, his legs spread over Derek's broad chest and hello Scott McCall's low hanging balls and ass. Derek leans his head forward, taking one of Scott's balls into his mouth and giving it a firm suck, appreciative of the fact that the boy's practically hairless back here. Scott moans as he takes Derek halfway down, capable of more but he wants to give himself a moment to be acquainted. Derek's big, like really big, and it's gonna be some work to take this monster all the way in.

Not a problem, except his concentration is being busted up by Derek's tongue circling his sac, both balls resting inside Derek's mouth now and hell not even Stiles can do that, both at one time and it feels precisely like heaven.

Stiles is enjoying the show from his viewpoint, between keeping his face buried in Derek's deliciously hairy ass and watching his boyfriend's mouth get stretched and strained around Derek's goddamn horse cock, happy as he can be as he bobs his head up and down – Scott looks fucking sexy with a dick in his mouth and he loves giving head – something Stiles is on the receiving end of most every day, sometimes more than once. He doesn't mind sharing though because Scott McCall's mouth is made of special stuff and deserves to be passed around a little bit. Stiles stops rimming Derek for a moment to come up and kiss Scott on the cheek, murmuring "love you" in his ear before he goes back to tongue fucking Derek.

Derek releases Scott's balls for a moment to catch his breath, voice raspy with lust as he speaks. "You know Scott – I'm not horrible at eating ass myself." The resulting moan from Scott – who very much still has Derek's dick in his mouth – makes Derek's toes curl as he uses the flat part of his tongue to start working Scott open, closing his eyes and diving right in, fast, wet licks that have Scott trying to push himself back on Derek's face.

"Easy Scotty" Stiles says to him, noticing the look of close to fucked out bliss on Scott's face. "This isn't even at the good part yet."

Scott takes a break from sucking Derek to give his jaw a chance to regain some feeling. "Coulda fooled me."

Stiles gives him a smile and a deeper kiss this time, sharing the taste of Derek's body back and forth between them. Derek's still rimming Scott, reaching up to give Scott's fuzzy head a rub because he's not known them that long but yeah, these are already his boys and he wants to keep them. He gives a low, lusty rumble when they resume their work on him at the exact same time, feeling Scott spit on his dick as he slides his mouth back over him and oh shit, he's going all the way down, holding it for a solid ten seconds before his eyes start to water.

Scott has to pull up and wipe his face, coughing once and before he sucks in a deep breath. "Christ Derek, you're gonna kill me with this thing."

Oh now he complains.

"You seemed to be doing just fine before."

"I was only halfway down _before._"

"Guys, guys, calm down." Stiles voice is gently commanding, like he has the solution to this problem. "I have an idea – Scotty, can you do that again?"

Scott nods, steadying himself before he unhinges his jaw and slowly works his way back down on Derek, lips stretched in the most obscenely beautiful way around him. Stiles gives Derek's hole a kiss before he reaches up and strokes Scott's throat with two fingers, opening him up even more. Scott relaxes visibly, the trick clearly working as Derek's stopped rimming him and is currently shaking from head to toe with how insanely wonderful it feels.

"Better?" Stiles asks.

Scott gives an affirmative noise and Stiles resumes rimming Derek, the hair around his whole now matted with spit and he's more than ready to get in there, feel Derek clench and come apart around him while Scott's magic ass helps. Okay more than helps – more like ruin Derek possibly more than Stiles can. Whatever- the point is to loosen up his boss so much that Derek can't possibly scowl and brood at something or someone for at least an unbroken twenty minutes.

Derek by now is at his breaking point – these two have worked him over more than anyone else has and he's ready, so so ready, to take it up a notch. He pulls Scott off of his dick and uses his feet to shove Stiles away from him.

"Part two boys." Derek's voice is shaky with want and his eyes are pleading just a little bit.

"Sure thing boss." Stiles grabs the condoms from where he'd deposited them on the table beside the bed, tossing a Magnum to Scott. Putting on a condom isn't exactly a sexy maneuver but Scott McCall could scratch his taint and it'd be erotic and it's exactly that as he takes the condom in his mouth and slides it down Derek's cock, throat still open to accommodate him and it's unrolled nearly all the way by the time Derek's sheathed in it, Scott reaching for the lube Derek's offered and coating himself liberally with it before handing it off to Stiles.

Scott takes a deep breath before as he positions himself over Derek, giving him a couple more strokes before he places the head at his hole.

"Think you can handle him Scotty?" Stiles has finished preparing himself, condom rolled on and cock wet, lubing Derek up as he asks.

"Yeah. Just need a sec." Scott relaxes himself, as open as he's going to get (Derek threw in a couple fingers at some point) and he closes his eyes, biting his lip as the wide-flared head pushes into him – he doesn't even own a dildo this big. It's slow going as he keeps easing himself down, feeling like he's being split in two and yeah, he's gonna be sore as hell tomorrow but goddamn it'll be worth it.

"Fuuuuuuck" is the only thing Scott manages as he seats himself fully, Derek bottomed out inside him and he's already starting to sweat, Stiles behind him and kissing his neck and rubbing his shoulders.

"You're doing great babe." Stiles attaches himself to Scott's earlobe as he lifts on Derek's hips and slides in, Scott bearing the brunt of that intrusion as Derek's hands settles on his tan hips and he squeezes, Derek tossing his head back because not only is Scott sinfully tight but Stiles is already zeroed in on his prostate, the sensation incomparable to anything else he's ever experienced. Derek's barely coherent as Scott finally screws up his courage and begins to rock his hips, Stiles hands linked with Derek's on Scott's torso. Scott's glad for the support as he's almost positive he's going to fall over without it – he plants his hands on Derek's hair-covered pecs, those gorgeous muscles popped out to their fullest and fucking hell it's gorgeous, Stiles behind him and Derek under him, hands and mouths doing all sorts of sinfully pleasurable things.

Derek sits up a little, Scott managing to bend down for a kiss and yeah that's pretty damn good – he likes kissing both of them equally, Scott all spice and simmering sexuality, Stiles pure electricity and unabashed desire – he wants to have his fill of both on a continual basis if he can get it.

"Tastes good, doesn't he Derek?" Stiles moves his hands to hold Scott tight and close as he fucks deeper into Derek, nailing his sweet spot, making Derek's hips buck up – Scott's been doing most of the work, Derek not able (or terribly willing) to do much else aside from let these boys run wild – it's going to take some practice to keep up with them.

All Derek says is "mmmph" as he licks into Scott's mouth, removing his right hand from Scott's hip and reaching for his dick, fat and drooling precome all over his belly as he fucks himself up and down on Derek's cock. He grips him tight, using this twisting motion he does to get himself off and it works wonders on Scott, feeling him tighten around his length. He can tell he's close, especially since Scott's literally pushing come out of himself at this point.

"C'mon Scott, come for me" Derek growls, thumbing over the head of Scott's cock, smearing the mess leaking from him around the slit, Scott's back arching away from where he's still being held by Stiles, Stiles having not missed a beat in fucking Derek to the point where Derek's awfully close too, one leg wrapped around Stiles' waist to draw him in as deep as he'll go.

"Dude, close your eyes" is all the warning Derek gets before Scott explodes, head tossed back on Stiles' shoulder as he spews, spurt after spurt of come soaking Derek's body and bed, Scott shaking hard and Derek ends up with a mouthful of it, the taste setting off his own climax and he roars as he comes, clenching tight around Stiles, Stiles' teeth sinking into Scott shoulder and screaming his orgasm into his boyfriend's flesh, slamming into Derek the whole time and the entire bed rocks, ten glorious seconds of pure ecstasy that makes his whole body thrum with the voices of angels.

Then Scott's toppling over and taking Stiles with him, hole pulling wetly at Derek's cock – the condom's full of spunk and Derek has to be careful so as to not spill it all over his already ruined enough sheets. Scott pulls out of him, making Derek wince and then he's on Scott, kissing him hungrily as he takes off his condom and empties it into Scott's mouth, Derek watching with fascination as he watches the two of them swap Stiles's semen, making a mess of themselves and when Stiles catches Derek staring at them he gestures for him to join, Stiles holding his tongue out over Scott's open mouth so that the mess can drip down, two come-sloppy mouths becoming three and it's the most perfectly filthy thing Derek's ever done, swapping jizz with these two incredible young men.

Eventually exhaustion wins out and since Stiles is the least weary he gets up and retrieves two washcloths. Really Derek needs a shower to clean the come from his body hair but he's too exhausted, simply removing the duvet from his bed and tossing it to the floor. Stiles cleans Scott up with care – the boy's already passed out, Derek averting his eyes as he wipes the lube from Scott's still very much stretched hole. That's something intimate and special there, what Stiles and Scott have.

A part of him really, really wants that too.

With a yawn Stiles finishes himself, looking at Derek as he does so.

"Mind if we bunk with you tonight? Don't feel like I could stay awake long enough to drive back to base AND drop off Scotty." Stiles runs a hand through Scott's short hair, Scott mewling in his sleep.

"Not at all. You guys… goddamn."

Stiles gives him another grin. "Yeah, it's not the first time we've done that. But it's not something we trouble over, y'know? Me and Scotty are solid like that."

Derek nods, watching how Stiles pulls Scott into a more comfortable sleeping position. "Yeah." He slides in behind Stiles, putting his arms around both of them.

"Stiles?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks. Seriously."

Stiles reaches back and runs his fingers through Derek's hair.

"Sure thing, boss."

. . .

Stiles wakes up to one warm side of the bed and one cold one.

The warm side is Scott, curled up against him in about the closest possible representation of a puppy a young man of 25 can get – it's heart meltingly adorable and Stiles manages to get his hand out from under Scott's side to rub his head. He looks for Derek half-heartedly, the bathroom door open but the light's off and the door to the bedroom's shut as well.

Not that it's a bad thing, of course.

Stiles brushes his lips over the crown of Scott's head, slow and loving, making his boyfriend stir. Stiles kisses his forehead next, slowly rolling Scott off of his chest and onto his back so he can kiss him more properly, Scott coming to as he starts to mouth "wake up Scotty" against his lips.

"Wassup" comes the sleepy reply, Scott rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand, opening them halfway to Stiles lazy grin and amber-colored eyed.

"Bout time to get up, don't you think?" Stiles glances at the clock next to the bed – it's well past eleven by now.

"Nnnn" is all Stiles gets, Scott burying his face in his neck and decidedly not moving.

"You worked hard last night you know." Stiles nuzzles his ear and kisses the spot behind it – the one only Stiles knows about. Scott shivers and pulls himself closer, tangling his legs with Stiles and shifting him so that Stiles is on top of him.

"Trust me, I feel it. Next time, _you're_ taking it from him." Scott settles back into the pillow, lazily dragging his fingernails up and down Stiles' bare spine, shuddering at the contact as it spreads over his skin like electricity.

Stiles considers it, taking Derek's cock and feeling for himself what it's like to ride the beast. Then again he probably wouldn't be the one on top – that's Scott's thing. No Stiles if he's catching likes to be flat on his back and fucked into the mattress.

Which he's sure Derek would give him.

"You think that Derek would do that?"

Scott opens his eyes cuffs Stiles playfully on the shoulder. "Does the pope wear a funny hat?"

"Depends on your definition of funny."

Scott sighs and fixes his boyfriend with a good "are you serious right now face."

"Given that you made him come so hard last night I'm sure he'd be willing to return the favor dude. It's not like there isn't a lot of him to go around."

At that moment Derek opens the door, shirtless and in gym shorts with a basket of laundry under one shoulder. Seeing how Scott and Stiles are all cuddled up together in what appears to be a rather intimate fashion he flashes them a quick smile as he sets down his clothes.

"Having fun over there?" He approaches the bed and moves over to join them sitting cross legged as he scritches his fingers down Stiles' side, watching his petty officer shiver.

Oh right.

He got fucked by his boss's boss's kid last night.

Hell yes.

"Just… spinning hypotheticals" is the shuddery reply Derek gets, Derek scraping his fingers over the base of Stiles' spine.

"About what?" Derek moves to rub his other hand over Scott's head, dragging his fingernails against his scalp and watching Scott melt into the mattress a little.

"Um…" Stiles tries to speak but Derek's fingers are wondering lower and lower, under the sheet that at this point has fall down his ass and exposing him to the world.

Derek removes his hands from his new friends and gets up. "Tell you what – why don't we talk about it over breakfast."

Stiles suddenly recovers his ability to move and is hauling Scott of the bed in a blur, Scott protesting as he's pulled along. Derek catches "my ass still hurts man!" as they disappear through the open door and that's kind of hot, the fact that Scott's still feeling him this much later.

With a smirk to himself he gets up, going out to the kitchen where Scott and Stiles are crowding each other to get to the small feat of eggs and toast, piling their plates high and perching on the stools at the bar. Clearly shame isn't a problem, seeing as how both of them are still bare ass naked and starting to munch away happily – it's a gorgeous sight to behold, the paleness of Stiles next to Scott's darker skin and he takes a moment to ogle them – after all, he's seen pretty much everything else.

Derek comes over and stands on the kitchen side of the bar, putting some food on his own plate. "So what were you boys talking about a few minutes ago?"

Scott swallows before Stiles can answer first. "Stiles wants you to fuck him." It's said so easily that Derek has to pause for a moment.

"What like, now?"

Stiles finishes the piece of toast he's eating and smiles. "Well I wouldn't say no to that idea but if you need time to recover I can wait." It's a little bit of a taunt but Derek doesn't rise to it.

"You two don't quit, do you?"

Stiles throws an arm around Scott's shoulders and kisses his cheek. "We're just lucky to be blessed with insane sex drives, aren't we Scotty?"

"Damn right."

Derek just shakes his head and bites into a forkful of egg. "Let me finish my laundry and we'll see what we can do about that. If you want to start without me though, feel free. You're my guests." Derek raises his eyebrows at them as he swallows his food.

Stiles turns to Scott, exchanging a silent "should we?" and Scott nods.

"You take your time boss. We'll wait and do the good stuff with you." They've both somehow managed to clear their plates by now (seriously, these guys have way more energy to burn than Derek's ever seen) and they both kiss him quick and wet before they're heading back to the bedroom, Derek pinching both their bottoms on their way by and in spite of the fact he came his brains out last night he feels the pull of arousal low in his gut.

The goddamn dryer better finish soon.

. . .

Scott takes the initiative once they're back on Derek's bed, pinning Stiles to the mattress and sitting on him, kissing him hard and hot and _perfect,_ scrubbing his hands over Stiles' scalp and making him moan into his mouth, legs going around Scott's waist and pulling him tight. They slot together perfectly, an artful dance they've perfected over the last seven years, Scott's hands reaching up Stiles' arms and tangling their fingers together above Stiles' head, morning breath be damned because he loves being with Stiles like this, taking over and making him desperate for whatever it is he wants.

Stiles reaches down between them and pulls at Scott's cock, hard and flush against his and he wants his boy as bad as he does Derek, using the same trick Derek had last night to make Scott wet, thumbing at the head and smearing the precome around. Scott sinks his teeth into Stiles bottom lip and pulls, making Stiles whimper and lose his rhythm on his dick.

"Want it Scotty." The way Stiles purrs the nickname makes Scott's head swim.

"Want what?" Scott puts Stiles' hand back up above his head, keeping him in place as he keep grinding his hips forward.

"You. And Derek."

"How?" Scott moves to bite at Stiles' jaw, hard little nips that make Stiles' toes curl.

"At the same time. Want to be stuffed full."

Scott takes a moment to grin down at Stiles, keeping him pinned with one arm as he sits up a little. He reaches down and rubs two fingers over Stiles' hole toying with the soft, dark hair around it, making Stiles try to drag himself against those lovely fingertips that know him inside and out.

"Then I've got some work to do." Scott gets off the bed, hard dick swinging between his legs as he searches for the discarded lube from the night before, finding it laying near Derek's desk. He's already got it uncapped as he starts to slick up the fingers of his right hand, coating them generously so that they're shiny with the stuff as he approaches.

Scott hovers over Stiles for a moment, kissing his way up from his chest to his mouth. "Just relax babe. I got you." Scott sits back up and places himself between Stiles' legs, one hand staying on Stiles' lower belly as he rubs and spread lube on and around Stiles' hole looking into his eyes as he does so – Stiles is so beautiful like this, that arousal and desire barely held in check by his surprisingly strong will.

Scott also very much wants to see how far he can push his boyfriend before things really get started – after all, he did see him first.

Stiles is tight down here, almost virginally so, warm and inviting and Scott loves to open him up as he doesn't bottom that often – not that he doesn't enjoy it, just that Scott's the one who's going to hop on his dick faster than the other way around. All the same Scott's still careful, sliding in one finger first and wriggling it around, making Stiles grab his forearms for support.

"Intense, isn't it?" Scott leans down and kisses Stiles' chest, right over his heart.

"Y…yeah." Stiles doesn't remember the last time he was on the receiving end and he's glad his body doesn't either, wants to feel the full intensity of whatever it is that's going to happen to him within the next hour.

Scott hums as he teases Stiles' prostate for a moment, just a gentle tap that makes Stiles' skin go all goosepimply.

"That – again."

Scott complies, watching Stiles' dick twitch against the pale skin of his belly, strands of precome pulling against the involuntary movement.

Fucking gorgeous, Scott thinks to himself.

"You should bottom more often Stiles, really. Look so fucking good like this." Scott adds another finger, his index and middle now sliding a little faster into Stiles' ass, feeling the resistance against the intrusion and working against him.

Of course Stiles' intimate areas would be as stubborn as the rest of him – not that this is new information really, it's just been a while since he's been this far south.

"Dude, you're fucking _tight_ back here."

Stiles just groans as Scott's fingers wiggle around more, long line of his throat bared and Scott can't help but lean down and give it a nip, coupling the gesture with a direct brush over his sweet spot. The noise Stiles makes as a result is pure music, reaching down to give his cock a tug and making his fingers sticky with precome, offering them to Scott – he cleans them greedily, turned on even more by the fact that he's the one who's making Stiles so fucking wet.

Stiles opens his eyes halfway and swallows before he speaks.

"_More_."

Scott moves to give him a quick, hard kiss before he sits back up, pouring some more lube onto his fingers before he slides in a third, wriggling all three at the same time and Stiles practically howls, toes curling hard into the mattress , hips bucking up off the bed and holy shit he's definitely got to start asking Scott do play with his butt more – no wonder his boyfriend enjoys it so goddamn much.

"Is everything okay?" Derek's in the doorway, hand on the knob and looking more than a little concerned.

Scott doesn't miss a beat, just turns to Derek with a grin, fingers still buried in Stiles' ass.

"Just getting him ready – that sound was a good one, I promise."

Stiles agrees with a nod, choking back a sob of pleasure as Scott digs his thumb into his perineum and presses down.

Derek's been watching ever since he opened the door, seeing the position they're in – and very much wanting to be there with them. Acting as if nothing odd is going on he just shuts the door and slides his shorts off, (he doesn't have any underwear on and Scott kind of wishes he'd been paying closer attention to the fact Derek was freeballing) moving towards the bed and settling next to Scott.

"Mind if I take over?" he asks as he squirts some lube onto his fingers.

"Not at all." Scott gives Derek a kiss before he moves, going to kneel next to Stiles' head. Stiles immediately sits up a little and turns his head, licking his lips before he sucks the head of Scott's cock between them, making Scott groan and thrust forward into the wet heat of his boyfriend's inviting mouth. It's lovely there, Stiles stretching easily around his girthy dick, the "perfect boyfriend cock" as Stiles had put it too him once when they were high off of awesome sex. Scott reaches down and rubs Stiles' head as he gently rocks his hips, Stiles' mouth going slack and humming contentedly.

"Look good with your mouth full of cock, Stilinski." Stiles just gives Derek a sour look and moans as Derek's three fingers in him become four, Stiles feeling dirty and open and okay, a touch violated but for what he's after he has to be.

Scott can't decide if he wants to keep looking at Derek fingering Stiles open or at his dick disappearing in and out of Stiles' mouth. He decides the latter, reaching for Stiles' cock and stroking as Derek stretches him.

"He wants both of us at once."

Derek looks up from where he's stroking himself as he opens Stiles up, the glee quickly suppressed under a smug smirk.

"You don't say?"

"He did." Scott grins lasciviously – not a look Stiles often sees on that adorable, crooked jawed face.

"Let's give him what he wants them. I think he's as open as he's going to get." Stiles whines as fingers are removed from his ass and Scott's dick from his mouth. He gets over it real fucking quick though, remembering what's about to happen.

Oh yeah, he's fucking _ready _for this.

Derek tosses Scott a condom while putting one on himself, practically emptying the bottle of lube as he coats his dick with it, looking at Stiles as he preps.

"I think I know how this is gonna work best." Derek moves to lay down on Stiles' other side, hauling Stiles bodily so that his back is flush to Derek's chest.

"Get the picture Scott?"

Scott does – and it's a beautiful thought to entertain. Hell, it's about to be better than a thought.

"Fuck yeah." Scott moves so that he's kneeling in between their legs, eying Derek's ridiculous length and he feels his own hole twitch, remembering what that felt like – and glad that Stiles gets to experience it too. Not being able to help himself, he leans down and licks a slow, lazy trail up from Derek's balls, up and over the length of his dick, then up to Stiles' dick, tasting the precome gathered there.

"C'mon guys, _please._" Stiles isn't at all too proud to beg but between Scott and Derek both deciding to see how good they are at playing Stiles' ass like it's a goddamn instrument he's fucking _ready_ for this.

"Patience" Derek hisses, biting Stiles' neck to drive his point home.

It just makes Stiles more desperate.

Scott gives Derek's cock a stroke before he lines it up with Stiles' hole, the hair parted and damp and Scott watches with fascination as Derek's cock starts to disappear into that pretty furl of dark pink, Stiles for his part doing a good job of not disappearing as he's filled, Derek stopping halfway and nodding to Scott.

This is fucking intense, what with Derek already taking up most of the available room inside his boyfriend's body and then sliding in on top of it, hurting Stiles in a bad way very, very possible but Stiles is so far beyond the point of fucking around, lifting his legs with a mighty effort and pulling Scott in bodily by the waist, Stiles giving a yelp as his ass is stuffed fuller than Santa's sack at Christmas, Scott having to catch his breath because he thought Stiles was tight before but with Derek there too it's almost suffocating.

Both Scott and Derek are breathing hard, Scott bent forward over the both of them and licking his lips repeatedly, trying to make a decision as to what to do next. Derek's eyes are screwed shut, halfway concentrating on not losing his mind with desire and also trying to keep Stiles in place via his arms wrapped around his body.

"Can someone move please?" comes the quiet prompt, Stiles' everything stretched and taxed to its limits.

Derek does first, rocking his hips up and in and Stiles screams, half from how much the move burns and because both Derek and Scott are on his prostate.

"Any…anytime Scotty."

Scott doesn't try to move heaven and earth like Derek just did, instead giving a slower, gentler thrust of his hips that makes Stiles howl just as loud as a moment ago – what an incredibly sexy noise.

For a sex scream anyway.

It's a grunting, sweaty time as both Derek and Scott get going, Scott trying to keep pace with Derek who in spite of truly not having much room to move is trying to fuck Stiles into oblivion – Scott's not going to be that brutal to him but goddamn he tries, feeling his cock sliding against Derek's and thank God for high quality lube, sliding and slipping against each other, Stiles' hole stretched obscenely around them and not tightening in the least, fucked open and staying that way as Stiles alternates between chewing his bottom lip off and screaming obscenities, mostly variations of "fuck" and other choice swears – the fact he's even forming coherent words is amazing.

Which means Scott and Derek just need to work harder.

With a mighty effort Derek's pushing them upwards, gathering his burly arms around both Stiles and Scott to move them – Stiles thought the angle was pretty fucking wonderful before but clearly he was wrong, make that extremely wrong as he sinks down hard and fast on both Derek and Scott's cocks, almost fucking laughs when he swears he can feel the differences in size inside him –

And then he's being fucked to within an inch of his life, Scott going down as Derek's going up, Scott's face buried in his neck and shoulder, biting at the pale skin, one arm wrapped around him and Derek, the other cupping the back of Stiles' neck in order to try and hold him more upright, Derek still keeping his bear-hug like grip on both of them, heels dug in and thighs straining as he jackhammers upwards into Stiles' body.

Stiles is literally going to die from being fucked and that's the end of it, appreciating all of this toppiness that his boyfriend's exuding, not to mention Derek's attempt to set a world record for most thrusts per second in a gay, double penetration threesome. Seriously, he's traveling towards a bright white light, getting more and more intense and then –

Darkness.

When Stiles comes to half an hour later he can't move, doesn't want to for that matter – not that he can, since his entire body is one gigantic sore spot, aching from head to toe and even then in places he didn't even know he had.

Starting with his ass.

Man, he's going to call out sick next week and just blame his illness on the black plague or a paper cut or something – he can't exactly say "I can't walk due to the fact I got double stuffed my ridiculously hot alpha male of a boss and my stupidly agreeing to my bad ideas boyfriend."

Wait.

Derek is his _boss._

He could just appeal to him and he'd understand, right?

Stiles is sure he would.

"He's not dead, Derek."

"Dammit – would have meant I didn't have to listen to him chatter around the hangar again."

Stiles does manage to open an eye, looking side to side and there are Derek and Scott, his boyfriend on his right and his boss on his left, looking at him with an equal mix of amusement and concern.

"Don't you two have some holes to be pile driving or some other equally drill related thing?" Even when he's croaky and heavy with satiation he can't turn the wit off.

He's proud of that.

"Sorry, we don't work on weekends but we do make special exceptions for those in need." Scott leans over and kisses him on the lips, Stiles grateful for the beautifully sweet touch.

"Did I come?" Stiles is so achey and numb he honestly can't tell.

"Uh, yeah. All over us." Derek gestures to the drying spunk in his thighs and Scott's belly and chest.

Stiles grins and tries to do a fist pump but the move just makes his body threaten to give out again. "Score one for me."

Derek sighs and gets up. "Shower time, c'mon"

"Wait, did you guys get off too? Was I good?"

Scott nuzzles Stiles' neck and kisses his way up to his ear. "We did babe, no need to worry about us. Now c'mon." Scott gets up and hauls Stiles up, carrying him over his shoulder to the bathroom where Derek's already got the shower running.

Stiles ends up between them again as he can't hold himself upright to wash his own body.

Not that he minds the caring, thorough attention of Derek Hale and Scott McCall.

. . .

Derek doesn't exactly feel like asking them to leave after that and neither of them act like they're in a terribly great hurry to go – it's nice having someone around, spending the rest of Saturday playing Call of Duty and arguing over who made the best James Bond (they one thing they all agree on is that Never Say Never Again should never have existed) along with some good-natured discussion of their careers. Derek learns that Scott flew through his doctorates in animal surgery and medicine, earning his degrees with flying colors and establishing his own clinic fresh out of grad school. He also finds it sweet that Stiles and Scott have known each other literally since sandbox days, watching their easy affection and openness with each other with a mixture of envy and happiness – they're beautiful together and yeah, Derek couldn't split them up if he tried. (In a metaphorical sense, of course.)

They also don't have sex again that day, all three of them sated and happy and largely naked – Scott and Stiles do bother to put back on their discarded underwear from the night before, immediately claiming the couch after getting cleaned up and sitting in each other's arms – it's a wonder they don't get things tangled as they play video games and Derek can tell they've had practice at this.

He tries to keep the looks of envy out of his eyes but all the same he still feels his gaze wandering to them more often than not – if they do ask he just tells them he's enjoying the view. Of course that's true but there's no need for him to let them in on the fact he really, really kind of wants what they have.

Which leads to him texting Isaac.

"Looking forward to seeing you" he sends sometime around six that evening, Scott and Stiles asleep and drooling on each other, smushed together on the couch like it's the most perfectly natural position in the world.

_I'll try to get over there tomorrow night man. They just now have let me go home._

"My bed's always open to you, you know that."

_Mine's also closer. What's the matter, _Derek_ Hale's libido making decisions for him again? _

Derek looks over at the current occupants of his couch, letting his gaze linger before he gets out of his chair and and steps into the kitchen, texting along the way.

"You have no idea."

_Tomorrow, seriously. I only work from seven to three – you can wait that long, right?_

"Yeah."

"And there's something I want to talk about."

_Sure thing man. Have a good night _

"You too Isaac."

Derek's glad for the warm bodies next to him that night, even if they aren't the ones he truly wants.

. . .

Isaac likes his job, truly he does.

He likes being a relief nurse as well – the pay's better and it allows him to work more shifts than regular staff.

It's also a bitch when he's been doing the work of two other people for the last three days.

He passed out as soon as he ate a sandwich and showered the night before sure but he doesn't feel truly rested – weekends normally mean Derek and sex and good beer, three things that for the last six months have been a constant presence on his Friday and Saturday nights and it's been the bright, shining light at the end of his week. Well more surly glare but hey, the whole mysterious and brooding thing works on Derek.

Fuck, he's also really goddamned horny and no number of bedpans he has to clean can really diminish that.

Isaac's been staring at the same chart for the last ten minutes, brain starting and stopping to try and remember what he's supposed to write down on it – it can't be that hard, dammit. Come on Lahey, use that big brain of yours.

He's still there five minutes later trying to remember what medicine he just dropped off to Ms. Rodzinski in room 458.

"You brought her some Tylenol and a glass of water, Isaac." Isaac looks up, Melissa McCall standing in front of him and looking sympathetic.

"Yeah, right. Thanks." Isaac makes the note, filling in the rest in thirty seconds and handing it off for filing.

"Are you feeling alright?" Melissa's in front of him now, using what Isaac imagines to be her mom voice.

Isaac nods, rubbing a hand over his face. "I am. Just… exhausted."

"How many hours have you worked this week?"

"I don't know… over sixty?" Isaac truly did lose count after yesterday.

" ?"

"Yeah?"

"Go home and go to bed. And don't come back for at least two days. Seriously." Melissa's tone leaves no room for argument and Isaac's not going to fight her.

"You're the best, you know that?"

"I know I am. Now get out before I change my mind."

It's the first time in a solid 72 hours Isaac's cracked a smile.

. . .

Derek's towling off after an early afternoon run and shower when his phone rings, Scott and Stiles having joined him (borrowing some of Derek's workout clothes, of course.) They're still in the bathroom being extremely thorough about drying each other's skin.

"Hello?"

"_You home?"_

It's Isaac.

Derek tries to keep the sudden urge to grin like an idiot mostly quelled. "Yeah, what's up?"

"_Mind if I stop by for a beer?"_

This time Derek does smile.

"Absolutely. I have company over though – that okay?"

_"You mean you actually let other people know where you live?" _Derek can hear the gentle tease in Isaac's voice even through the receiver.

"I told you, I'm not some sort of recluse – beside I think you'll like them. Just a friend from work. And… well why don't you wait and find out when you get here?" Please let it be soon, Derek thinks.

"_Alright ba-bro. See you in a few."_

Derek, contrary to popular belief, does catch the fact his fuck buddy almost called him babe.

So what if his heart sings a little, no one else needs to know that.

Scott and Stiles smile and snicker at the tell-tale blush across Derek's cheeks anyway.

Derek glares at them but to absolutely no avail.

. . .

Normally Isaac doesn't get super dressed up to go over to Derek's – the clothes come off sooner rather than later anyway, seeing as how Derek's been a steady hook up and not much else. Not that Isaac would say no to more, of course – he likes the guy. That and it's not lost on him that Derek never asks him to leave after they fuck, even if he's not exactly curled around him when he wakes up the next morning.

Not that Isaac wouldn't mind waking up to Derek's furry body and everything else pressed up against him when he opens his eyes in that big old bed.

He selects a collared shirt that hugs his long, lean frame in such a way that the eye can't help but be drawn up and down, a soft blue that makes his eyes pop – Derek definitely has a thing for them, likes to stare into them whenever they're balls deep in the other (just depending on the day. Isaac doesn't own a lot of jeans but the ones he selects ride low on his slender hips, maybe a little too low but hey, he may as well make the wrapping look good if he's presenting himself for a roll or two in the hay – although with company there Isaac's not 100% sure what to expect.

There's a spritz of cologne in the spot Derek will bury his face in when he comes as Isaac gives himself one final check over, curls damp from his quick shower to try and wash the smell of hospital off of him and then he's out the door, keeping the keys to his Titan out and as much as he wants to get Derek naked the first and foremost thing in his mind is how bad he wants to kiss him, feel that beard drag against his jaw and tongue dip into his mouth and fuck, this can't be good if what he wants more than anything is to make out with his fuck buddy.

Isaac's starting to think that maybe he should have called Derek babe anyway.

. . .

Call of Duty's turned to Halo (and Stiles' constant outpouring of insults towards the television – not even Derek's heard such creative swears before and he's been in the army for a decade) along with building sexual tension – Scott and Stiles have been sneaking kisses since Derek talked to Isaac and ninety percent of them would have gone further had Derek not glared at them. (Not on the bar, Stiles I eat there.)

So Halo it is.

Derek's nervous and probably gripping his controller too tight – Isaac's not going to freak out when he hears what he has to say to him, will he?

Only one way to find out, of course.

Right as Derek's ending a five kill streak there's a knock at the door and red team winning be damned, he's up out of the chair so fast that it takes a moment for Scott and Stiles to even notice he's no longer playing. He swings the door open, Isaac's hand still up like he's going to knock and then he's being dragged inside, Derek's arms going around him and then he's kissing him, Isaac giving a muffled "mmmph" as his mouth is jammed full of Derek's tongue.

Two things out of place, really. One Derek never, ever kisses him unless it's part of foreplay and two Derek's holding him like he's missed him in more than just a "I need to be in your ass sort of way."

Isaac's not at all going to be disagreeable to this change in… whatever so he kisses him back, throwing caution to the wind and cupping Derek's face in his hands, Derek humming softly into his mouth and fuck yes he could get used to this in a hurry, Derek's arms gathered around him so that he's pressed up against the ridiculous muscles and everything else, getting. Isaac gets lost in the kiss, brain scrambled completely and then Derek's hands are on his hips and his thumbs rubbing circles into them, slipping under the fabric and dragging his nails over the skin.

Derek breaks the kiss and Isaac's smiling at him when he does, resting his forehead against Derek's, seeing as how Derek didn't exactly shove him away when he made the kiss more intimate.

"Who are you and what have you done with Derek Hale?"

"Shut up – you look good and I just wanted a first taste." Derek kisses him again and yep, just as good as the first one.

"Yo – Sergeant. Derek. His Royal Grumpiness." Stiles and Scott have been watching the whole exchange since Derek and Isaac decided to try and do the world's first tonsillectomy via tongue in the doorway. Derek turns and the glare he gives Stiles actually makes him shut his mouth.

"Isaac Lahey, this is Petty Officer Stiles Stilinski and Dr. Scott McCall. We've been hanging out this weekend." Derek actually holds Isaac's hand as he pulls him back to the chair he had been occupying and Isaac doesn't ever want to let go of him.

"Hanging out? Like hanging out hanging out or you're just keeping them around for sex?" Isaac's not jealous, he isn't. (Alright maybe a touch – they're both gorgeous as hell.)

"It was Stiles's idea – since you couldn't make it over Friday night he decided to help out with… well it was a shitty week and he and Scott provided some relief, y'know? And – this is gonna kill me to say it – they're good company. So they've been here since Friday night." Derek still hasn't let go Isaac though, perched on the arm of Derek's chair with Derek's arm around his waist.

Stiles just gives a smirk and shifts himself so that he's halfway in Scott's lap. "Gotta keep the boss happy, right? No use in him being a grouch on Monday too. They're bad enough without him trying to bore holes into me via telekinesis."

Derek has half a mind to throw his controller at Stiles but he doesn't – he's right of course. They have helped make the last forty eight hours a lot better. "I don't have telekinesis, Stilinski."

"Yes you do."

"Guys, stop." Scott's getting just a little tired of Derek and Stiles sniping at each other – even if it is amusing to watch. He kisses Stiles' shoulder and it's enough to get his attention back to him and for the moment they call a silent truce.

Derek gets up from his chair and stretches. "Well I'm thirsty – anyone else for beer? Any by anyone I mean everyone else except Stiles."

"Hey!" Stiles does at least bother to sound genuinely offended.

"I'll help you get them." Isaac follows Derek to the kitchen and once they're out of sight Isaac presses him against the counter and kisses Derek again, more slow and warm this time and Derek surrenders immediately, linking his hands at the small of Isaac's back and hugging him close.

Isaac pulls back after a moment and looks Derek dead in the eye. "So that's okay to do now?"

Derek grins, nipping at Isaac's chin. "As much as you want to."

"So that means… what now."

"Whatever you want it to mean."

"Fuck buddies don't just kiss like that Derek."

"Maybe not but…" Derek's sure Isaac can figure out what he's getting at.

"Are you saying you want to go steady with me?" Isaac's insides are a quiver with mounting hope.

"No one says 'go steady' anymore. But yeah, I am. I've wanted to for a while now." Derek tries to cover up his sudden openness with another kiss but Isaac pulls his head away.

"Does this mean you'll buy me dinner beforehand now?"

"Is leftover take out okay tonight? Preferably after we have sex?" Derek slides his hands up his boyfriend's – the word makes him more than a little giddy – sides and hooks them around the backs of his shoulders.

"Definitely. Now what was that about beer?" Derek gives him a look of mild offense but follows it up with a kiss, Isaac moving so that he open the fridge.

Going back out into the living room Derek and Isaac are presented with Scott straddling Stiles lap, shirt off and Stiles' hands roaming over his back, dipping every few seconds into the waistband of Scott's jeans, locked in a deep kiss that leaves Derek wondering how exactly it is the two are breathing.

"Forgot to mention – Stilinski and his boyfriend have no concept of shame." Derek earns himself the fingers from Stiles, not missing a beat as he puts his hand back on Scott's spine and resumes teasing him.

"Kind of hot though" Isaac says around his beer bottle, looking at Derek with a wicked gleam in those pretty blue eyes.

"Yeah, I guess it is." Derek sets his unopened bottle down and nips at Isaac's neck before he goes to his bedroom, leaving Isaac to stand there and watch, one hand curled around his Michelob and the other rubbing at himself, watching Derek's houseguests work more and more steadily towards debauching each other.

Better than porn, and Isaac likes porn to a fair extent.

Derek's back at his side a moment later, plucking his beer bottle from his fingers and pulling him to his body, taking Isaac's hands and placing them on his ass, murmuring "make it yours" before kissing Isaac again, this time with tongue and teeth and everything Derek's been wanting to say to him for the last month, Isaac turning them so that they come down heavy in the chair, Derek in Isaac's lap running and pulling his fingers through his dark blonde curls, Isaac groaning into his mouth as he gropes Derek's ass, fingers shoved past the waist of his tan cargo shorts, kneading the skin as best he can and Derek's hard in them, cock heavy and warm even through the fabric and Isaac wants him naked sooner rather than later.

"Clothes off" comes the soft command and Derek's only too eager to comply, jumping up out of Isaac's lap and pulling his shirt off in one quick motion, Isaac helping him with his shorts and pulling them down with his boxer briefs, Derek naked before him and before he can decide where he wants to put his mouth first Derek starts stripping him, the shirt gone in a flash and his jeans too, Isaac's big dick hard in his briefs and Derek takes a moment to appreciate how nicely the blue Andrew Christians are filled out, damp patch of precome darkening the fabric where the head lays, Derek tugging him forward by the waistband and reaching in as he kisses him, the fingers of Isaac's left hand curling around Derek's cock and stroking as he presses their bodies together, Isaac smooth and pale against Derek's tan, hairy torso.

Scott and Stiles have momentarily stopped trying to ravish each other to watch, mouths agape because holy shit Isaac's beautiful too and watching the two of them move is almost sinfully gorgeous, eyes glued to Derek's and Isaac's bodies because it's like watching a Sean Cody scene, except live and less than ten feet away from them.

"You boys see something you like?" Isaac asks as Derek gets to his knees and tugs his underwear off, Isaac's cock springing free as Derek dips his tongue under his foreskin and laps up the precome dripping from it.

"Um" is the only answer they give and it's from Scott, Stiles' eyes bugged out as he watches Derek's mouth stretch around Isaac's dick, going all the way down on him like it's the easiest thing in the world.

Stiles shakes himself out of his haze and turns back to Scott, reaching up to cup his jaw and turn his face back towards Stiles', looking up at him with parted lips and Scott dives in for a kiss, rocking his hips down and Stiles is hard too – Scott needs him inside and the sooner the better, a point he makes by getting up and shucking his jeans and underwear from his body, Stiles taking the opportunity to shimmy out of his clothes as well, attention wrenched back completely by the sight of Scott's muscles and crooked jaw and dick, not able to wait to touch him all over and pulling Scott back down into his lap, eyes shut as their naked skin rubs together and lights the other on fire, blood running hotter than hot for touch and contact.

Isaac's hot his fingers buried in Derek's short hair, gnawing his bottom lip nearly clean through as Derek deep throats him, wet and sloppy and perfect. Derek keeps flicking his gaze up towards Isaac's face, more than just lust burning in those greenish blue eyes, something deeper and more solid than simple physical desire and that's what does it for Isaac, this want to give himself over completely and soon Derek's being pulled up from the floor and spun around, Isaac pushing him back towards the chair, getting to his knees and yanking him forward.

"My turn" is all Isaac says before he's moving down down down in between Derek's legs, putting them over his shoulders as he licks a filthy wet stripe down the length of Derek's cock down to his hole, rubbing his thumbs over the soft hair right at the split before he gently spreads Derek apart, lapping his tongue over his hole with something that could only be called exuberance, intent on giving his boyfriend the rimjob of his life.

Scott's riding Stiles' face, long tongue corkscrewing in and out and Scott can feel himself opening up, Stiles laying longways on the couch and Scott has one leg tossed over the armrest and his foot against the wall for support, Stiles' hands on his ass to keep him spread apart, Stiles's eyes closed and his whole world is Scott, lavishing as much love and affection as he can into rimming his boyfriend as he can muster, inhaling Scott's scent and letting it burn and cleanse him, gently scraping his teeth in the wake of his tongue and the moan Scott lets out is so goddamn gorgeous that he does it again. Scott for his part is ready, wants Stiles inside him and he wants Derek and Isaac to fucking watch them.

Derek's convinced his body's about to split apart, his brain a puddle of mush as Isaac eats him out, keeping him tugged in close via his hands and forearms wrapped around his thighs, licking and licking and licking until he can fuck his tongue in and out of Derek's hole, opening him up until Derek's begging with moans and cries for him to fuck him.

"Isaac, please. Fuck me. Fuck me until I forget my own goddamn name." Derek Hale does not beg in bed – he'll whimper and moan but begging is not what he does but at this point it's all he wants, Isaac to fill him up and claim him and snatch him up so that no one else can have him.

"You got it babe." The pet name sends a warm rush down Derek's spine, watching Isaac get the lube from the coffee table along with a condom. Isaac kneels back down in front of Derek, the height of him on his knees perfect so that he's lined up perfectly, starting to open the condom up but Derek stops him with a hand on his wrist.

"Just you Isaac."

"You sure?"

Derek nods and Isaac kisses him as he slicks himself and Derek up more.

Scott's currently got Stiles' cock sucked into his mouth, getting it wet for him and for his part Stiles is doing a very good job of not coming yet, buried in the familiar yet never gets old pleasure of Scott's talented tongue and lips, shifting his gaze back and forth from his boyfriend over to Isaac and Derek, watching Isaac lube up his bare dick and holy hell that's sexy, seeing Derek's face as Isaac pushes into him giving him an idea.

"Scotty?"

Scott looks up at him, Stiles' dick still in his mouth.

"Wanna do it bareback?"

Scott's answer is to give him that million watt grin and move up so that he's kissing Stiles stupid.

Scott pulls back long enough to say "lube" and Isaac tosses it to him as he watches Derek's ass take his whole cock, disappearing amidst the black hair and it's the most obscenely filthy thing, Derek a hot, damp clench around him. For his part Derek's writhing in the chair, ready for Isaac to fuck him stupid yesterday.

Isaac starts to move, Derek's legs gathered around his body as he leans on the chair for support, breath hot and panting against Derek's face as he fucks, slow at first but Derek's heels in his spine say "faster" and Isaac's not about to deny him that if he can help it.

Stiles is at that point of near death again, watching Scott slide down onto his bare dick, hands linked between them in the air and Scott's got his calves tucked up under Stiles' thighs, pulling him up as he descends and Stiles feels it when he's fully inside Scott, closer than close and Scott leans down to kiss him as they both take the time to adjust to the new sensation, listening to Derek and Isaac trying to break the chair across the room from them.

Derek likes it rough and Isaac's giving it to him that way, the loud slap slap slap of their skin not quite echoing in the apartment but it's a near thing, the two of them making an awful goddamn lot of noise, between Derek chanting Isaac's name as he nails him over and over again in the prostate and Isaac praising Derek how fucking good his ass feels around him, occasionally leaning down to kiss Derek before he starts trying to fuck him into the chair.

Scott's making a show of riding Stiles, alternating between rocking those damn snake hips and outright bouncing on him, always keeping Stiles guessing and this certainly isn't the first or hundredth or even five hundredth time he's done this but with the added sensation of nothing between them it's all Stiles can do to hold on, hands gripping Scott's hips so hard he's positive there are going to be bruises there later. Scott grinds down on him, his cock jutting straight up and leaking precome as he pushes it out of himself, a loud litany of "fuck" and "Stiles" and "oh my God spilling out of his mouth, voice raspy and fucked out as he talk-moans.

It's not a competition to see who can make their partner come first, really it's not but it ends up being Derek, between Isaac finding that just right angle and jacking his him off at the same time, making Derek paint himself and the chair with spunk, white spurts matting his body hair as Isaac makes him black out from pleasure, Isaac's legs shaking as his own release follows hot on the heels of Derek's, fucked into him as deep as he'll go. Derek goes limp as soon as he's finished and pulls Isaac to him so that he doesn't float away.

Scott third, all over Stiles' body, thick white globs of jizz pulsing from his dick and onto Stiles' stomach, untouched and earth shattering, watching Stiles' face contort into a mask of ecstasy as he comes too, brain fried with pleasure and he can feel himself leak out of Scott's ass and onto his leg, too tired to care as he pulls Scott down for a kiss.

For a while there's nothing but the sound of heavy breathing and lazy kisses, Derek mostly unconscious in the chair and Isaac scritching his fingers through his stubble, Derek's spunk making them stick together fast. He's about to pull Derek down onto the floor with him when he has a realization hit him.

"Scott McCall."

"Nnnn."

"As in Melissa McCall?"

"That's my mom" comes the fucked out reply.

"She's my boss."

Stiles attempts to hum "It's A Small World After All."

. . .

Six a.m. feels disgustingly early after the weekend he had but Derek's in a far better mood now, trudging into the hangar and still glowing with the feeling from night before – Isaac had stayed over and as much as he hated to wake him up and tell him he was going he did leave with the promise that he would be there when Derek came home that night. It's a good feeling, wonderful even as he walks over to his first project.

Stiles is already there, protective goggles covering his face as he works on a bomb release under the fuselage under of one of the older Warthogs.

"Morning, Sergeant" he says without looking away.

"Petty Office – what do we have?"

"Sticky release mechanism – ran a weapons test yesterday and the bomb didn't detach. Thankfully it was a dummy so no one was hurt."

Derek gets down on the floor and slides up next to Stiles, taking a closer look at the faulty mechanism.

"Everything good with you and Scott?" Derek tries to sound as casual as possible about asking.

"Yeah, definitely. I think this weekend was good, not just for you but for us too. We're closer now and I didn't think we could be."

Derek nods, handing Stiles a screwdriver. "So no hard feelings about… you know."

Stiles knocks his elbow against Derek's and quirks his lips into a smile. "None at all. Like I said, we're solid."

"So more threesomes in the future are…"

"A possibility. So long as you're willing to share yourself – and Isaac can come too."

"I'll talk to him about it."

"He's a good guy, boss, I can tell. But you take your time with him before you come knocking for us, alright?"

Derek tries to glare at him but instead he ends up unsuccessfully fighting back a smile.

"You'll be the one who comes back first."

Stiles gives Derek a playful shove and takes his screwdriver back.

Besides, that's simply not true.

(It happens again the following weekend anyway.)


End file.
